


little miss sunshine

by thefudge



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Belligerent Sexual Tension, Blood Drinking, F/M, Vampires, ost: bow wow wow - i want candy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24877552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefudge/pseuds/thefudge
Summary: In any given situation, Jessica has to poke the bear.  Edward/Jessica AU
Relationships: Edward Cullen/Jessica Stanley
Comments: 21
Kudos: 124





	little miss sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> here i was, ignoring my grading load and trying to update my fics when...another pairing got the best of me. granted, yall have been tempting me with it on tumblr, so! anyway, hope you enjoy this oneshot!

_i know a girl who's tough but sweet_   
_she's so fine, she can't be beat_   
_she's got everything that I desire_   
_sets the summer sun on fire_

***

Jessica jumps on the balls of her feet. Her diminutiveness is often a screen hiding an impressive amount of energy. P.E. is competition in its purest form. Every time she manages to wrest the ball from the opposing team she feels invincible. She _is_ invincible. She dribbles the ball quickly, ponytail swishing in the air as she runs towards the goalpost.

From the corner of her eye she registers movement. She’s always hyperaware of her surroundings. That’s why she notices the tall figure sitting down in the stands, copper hair glittering like a stop sign.

He sticks out like a sore thumb.

Jessica stumbles, feet tangling. She knows she’s about to fall, so she makes a desperate throw, even as she slides towards the floor. The ball goes past the goalkeeper into the net. Her team cheers.

Jessica lands painfully on her knees and elbows. The skin scrapes and bubbles with frothy blood.

“Ouch ouch ouch…” she hisses, trying not to let the tears slide down her cheeks.

Her teammates gather round her. The coach shouts for them to give her some air.

Jessica looks up.

Edward Cullen walks past the stands, thumb brushing his lower lip, a strange, tense smile on his lips. He disappears through the exit doors.

Jessica narrows her eyes.

“Jess, are you okay? Talk to us!”

She swallows her pride and nods, trying to smile, even though all she wants to do is curse. She lets her teammates lift her up.

She sits in the nurse’s office and sulks. He did that on purpose. Distracted her. Made her almost fail. The magnificent Edward Cullen never graces the halls of P.E. unless he can help it. What was he doing there? Trying to humiliate her?

Later that evening, when she recounts the events to Angela, her friend acts nonplussed.

“Um, are you sure it was Cullen? I didn’t see him walk in.”

“ _Angela_! I’m pretty sure I’d know if it was another boy.”

“Okay?”

Jessica realizes that sounded too…obsessive. She clears her throat. “I mean, he obviously stands out. Like, in a bad way. I’m just saying – it was him.”

“If you say so.”

“Look, I’ll prove it to you. I’ll confront him tomorrow.”

Angela squeaks. “ _Seriously_?”

“Seriously! You know what? I’m tired of him acting like he’s better than us…with his Volvo and his boy-band looks and his…stuck-up attitude. I’m not going to let him ruin my sophomore year too.”

Angela wisely doesn’t bring up Jessica’s real gripe with Edward Cullen: the fact that he’d already rejected her. Jessica had boldly gone up to him during freshman year and asked him to the Spring Dance only to be very coolly and politely turned down.

Jessica had never lived it down.

“I don’t know, Jess, it sounds like a bad idea…” Angela trails off.

“It’s not like he can _hurt_ me or anything. I don’t care about him. And I want him to know that.”

And Jessica writes it down in her agenda in strawberry-scented glitter. She underlines it on her to-do list.

_Tell Edward Cullen he’s a total jerk._

As she arrives at school, Jessica feels a _tiny_ bit nervous. She still remembers the swift and effective way Cullen dismissed her the last time they talked. She ended up going alone to the Spring Dance because she was too angry to ask or accept anyone else.

But she’s a year older. She’s smarter and cooler and, as her mother keeps telling her, way too _good_ for boys her age. This is just about her game practice. Cullen messed with her on purpose, so she’s going to set him straight.

She marches towards his locker and doesn’t stop until she can smell his irritating wintry cologne. She has never managed to track down the scent, but it can’t be natural. Ugh, he’s _so_ pretentious, he probably has it shipped from Marseille or somewhere.

“Jessica,” he greets her without turning his head.

“Oh, wow, you know my name,” she says, with faux-cheer. “I’m so _impressed_. The way you walk around the place I thought you’d need people to wear tags.”

Okay, she wasn’t planning on being _this_ aggressive from the get-go, but the way he said her name made her skin prick. Like he was expecting her.

And there’s that obnoxious little smile again, only half his mouth.

She balls her fists.

“How can I help you?” He sounds distant, ethereal, like he can’t be bothered with this plane of existence.

God, she hates him.

“Oh, you think it’s funny to mess with people?”

“Sorry?”

She folds her arms. “Yesterday in gym class.”

“You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

She points a finger at him. “Don’t play dumb. What were you doing in there? You’re excused from P.E.”

“You’re keeping tabs on me?” he asks lightly.

“ _No_. But it’s not like it’s a secret. You’re probably allergic to sweating or…something.”

Okay, her temper is making short work of her composure. That’s not good. She’s never really had a chance to vent about being rejected, so the words just spill out.

“And I’m sure you find sports beneath you,” she continues angrily. “I mean, I’m shocked you’re not home-schooled. The whole high school experience probably _disgusts_ you.”

By now, people in the corridor have stopped chatting and are glancing their way. It’s a real novelty to see someone fight with Edward Cullen.

Edward’s eyebrows go up. “I wouldn’t necessarily use _that_ adjective.”

Jessica exhales. Why does he _always_ make her lose her cool? “Why were you watching my game?”

Edward stashes a few books in his locker. She notices that all of the titles are foreign. Nothing is school-assigned. Of course.

“I don’t remember watching your game, Jessica, but I’m sorry to have missed it.”

She opens her mouth. She’s _so_ angry right now, she’s unable to speak. What’s more infuriating, Edward patiently waits for her to find her words.

“You…I saw you…and your stupid bouffant hair,” she grits.

Edward raises a hand to his forehead. “I swear it’s Rosalie who keeps putting product in it.”

“Look, I don’t care about you and your weirdo cult family. You don’t get to mess with me during handball.”

Edward leans against his locker, giving her an oblique look. “But I _wasn’t_ there. Ask around. No one else saw me, except you.”

Jessica stomps her foot. “I don’t _care_ about everyone else. I saw you. That’s what matters.”

Her vehemence startles him a little. Something imperceptible changes in his mien. Like he’s standing straighter. His eyes shine like glass.

Jessica is bizarrely reminded of those National Geographic documentaries where lions size each other up before a fight.

“Even if I _was_ there,” Edward drawls, “how would me just sitting there _mess_ with you?”

Jessica sinks her nails in her palms. “You’re not usually there, so you distracted me. I’m _extremely_ perceptive.”

“And that’s _my_ fault?”

“Yes!”

“You still scored the winning goal.”

“I thought you said you weren’t there.”

“I heard people talking about it,” he quickly evades.

Jessica smiles. “Right, because you love to gossip.”

“I can’t help overhearing sometimes,” he says, and it sounds tongue-in-cheek, but she has no idea what he means.

“Next time you show up, I’ll throw the ball at your head,” she says sweetly.

“You can’t actually prevent me from walking into gym, you know.”

Jessica lifts her chin. “I’m president of the student council, so I wouldn’t bet on it.”

Edward chuckles softly. “Should I be afraid?”

“If you know what’s good for you,” she says none too kindly. 

He pulls his schoolbag over one shoulder. “I’ll admit, you _are_ pretty intimidating.” And the fact that he’s towering over her is lost on neither of them.

Jessica stands taller. “You’ve seen nothing yet.”

Edward smiles again. He glides past her without a goodbye and she feels a strange, cold touch running down her spine.

“Can you stop stabbing the salad?” Lauren pouts, eyeing Jessica’s murder spree.

“It’s not edible anyway,” Jessica mutters, glaring over her shoulder at the off-limits Cullen table.

“God, you’re still _not_ over him?” the blonde drawls.

Jessica points the fork at Lauren. “I was never _into_ him! I’m just mad that he’s a jerk and everyone lets him get away with it! Like, who does he think he is?”

Lauren shakes her head. “Honey, take it from me. He’s obviously gay. I mean, he rejected me too. That’s insane.”

Angela slips a small giggle.

Jessica scowls at both of them. “First of all, _Lauren_ , you never even bothered talking to him, so how do _you_ know? Oh, that’s right, because you think guys should approach you all the time and you don’t have to do anything.”

“Well, _duh_. The way you do it is pretty desperate, Jess.”

Jessica gets up. She doesn’t want to ruin her already contentious friendship with Lauren, so she says nothing. She only grabs her lunch and makes for the exit.

She’s so determined to walk out of there and go punch a wall that she runs straight into him with her tray.

Edward’s reflexes are sharp. He grabs her elbow before either she or the tray has an accident, but some of the salad sauce spills on his expensive shirt. 

Jessica’s eyes widen.

His grip on her arm is so strong she’s almost scared for a second. How can a high-school kid have that much upper body strength when he looks like an extra on _Lord of The Rings_? But she recovers quickly.

“I am _not_ apologizing. Serves you right.”

Edward raises an eyebrow. “How mature of you.”

“Let go of my arm.”

“Sorry,” he says, releasing her. “Wouldn’t want you hurting your knees again.”

He walks away, not looking back.

Jessica holds the tray in her hands. There’s no mark on her arm, even though there _should_ be, the way he was gripping her.

She shivers slightly. His hands were very cold.

And what’s that he said about her knees?

She’s too antsy to go to sleep, even after a long session on her exercise bike _and_ doing SAT word practice.

Her brain feels both fuzzy and alert, like she’s trying to see through thick fog. She keeps thinking about the way his hand felt. She wouldn’t want to be touched like that again, but she’s curious. Like, it felt weird, but _interesting_ weird, maybe.

Maybe he’s got some kind of terminal illness. Something to do with his skin. He looks sort of waifish and fragile and pale, like in one of those weepy cancer movies. It would make sense. Not that she wants him to get cancer. But she definitely wouldn’t mind if he suffered a little.

She lies in bed with her Oprah book of the month and tries to underline her favorite quotes to transfer to her diary, but all she can think about is sticking this sparkly pen into Edward’s eye. She starts doodling absently, staring at her reflection in the mirror above the mantelpiece. Oh, why can’t she just let go of things like a normal person?

She must have fallen asleep halfway through that thought, because the next thing she knows, she’s staring at a strange reflection in the mirror. A _non_ -reflection almost. A ripple in the air.

And then he’s there.

Edward Cullen is in her room. The same copper hair, glinting like a red mouth.

He’s by her desk, looking over her color-coded portfolios and notebooks and Stanford paraphernalia and assorted photos and inspirational posters. He smiles knowingly as he traces his finger over a “WINNER” cheer banner and a “Never Give up, Give 100% Instead!” placard.

Okay, she’s dreaming, obviously.

He can’t actually…Of course not. _I mean, that would be insane._

Still, she gathers the blanket to her chest.

He’s wearing the same clothes he wore in school that day. Even more disturbingly, he’s still got the stain from the salad sauce on his shirt.

He picks up her Girl Scout badges, looks them over.

“Put them back in the same order!” Jessica warns, unable to help herself. But she’s spent a lot of time sorting them.

Edward looks up. His smile turns into a grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

Jessica frowns. It feels so real, talking to him, and yet also _wrong_ , somehow.

“I sometimes wonder what you’d be like as me…” he trails off, setting the badges down. He picks up a Taekwondo gold medal. He whistles softly. “Probably one hell of a predator.”

Jessica wishes this dream made more sense. What is he even talking about?

“I don’t have to be like you. I’m _better_ than you,” she says, because even unconscious, she has to have the last word.

Edward examines her red stress ball. He can see the sharp indents of nails in it.

“Yeah, I guess you are. You’re like a really…bothersome piece of sun,” he mutters, throwing the ball in the air and catching it seamlessly.

“What’s wrong with the sun?” she retorts, although she feels a shock of pleasure at the strange compliment. She remembers her Nana and Pop used to call her ‘little miss sunshine’ whenever she ran with the sun in her hair and ice cream trickling down her fingers, but somehow this doesn’t feel like that.

Edward drops the ball. “It’s a little too bright.”

He doesn’t seem to walk. She blinks and he’s already at the foot of her bed.

Jessica feels warmth in her belly. Oh God, will this be an embarrassing _sex_ fantasy? Like okay, she obviously finds him attractive, I mean you’d have to be blind _not_ to, but she doesn’t want to give into some primal urges –

Edward laughs and it sounds incredibly real.

“Don’t worry, Jessica. I’m not here to…ravish you? Although, I wouldn’t be averse to it, under different circumstances.”

She hates the polite, seemingly attentive way he talks, even in her dream. Edward Cullen always acts like such a gentleman, but he’s anything but – and –

“Hang on a second! You what? _You_ turned _me_ down.”

Edward sits down on the bed, but she barely feels any additional weight. He leans forward, looking at her, pinning her down.

“And it still bothers you. It’s kind of amusing, hearing you agonize about it. But what would you have me do? Go to the dance with you? Take you out on dates? I’d only be thinking about ripping into your pretty little throat. And I like your throat the way it is. Don’t you?”

It’s such a sensible question to ask, so polite…all she can do is nod, petrified.

“I thought so.” And his hand reaches out invisibly, a ripple in the air, pulling the covers off her legs. “Now, your knees, on the other hand...”

Jessica startles. No, this isn’t how the dream is supposed to go. She digs her heels into the sheet, tries to slide away from him, but he places a cold hand over her bare ankles.

“It’s okay. It won’t hurt.”

And the softly threatening quality of his voice keeps her still. It’s not just fear, but that odd and terrible sense of curiosity again. In any given situation, Jessica has to poke the bear.

Edward raises the covers further, revealing her bandaged knees.

He skims the underside of her legs, cold fingers feeling up to the back of her thighs and Jessica shudders, clutching the sheets. It’s not just a novel way of being touched, but the first time she has been touched there by someone else.

Edward slowly peels off one bandage, then the other. They unstick from her skin with a sound like teeth unlatching. 

Jessica hisses slightly.

The wound is still healing. There’s blood bubbling just under the surface.

Edward dips his head. His eyes have a strange lambent light, like coals in a forge. She remembers that class roadtrip, she remembers staring into the coals.

When his mouth closes over her knee and his tongue laps at the sensitive skin, she loses her grasp on the sheets and falls down against the pillow, mouth opening almost against her will, an odd cat-like sound coming from her lips.

The feeling, ironically, is like scratching an itch.

She raises her knees into his mouth. He holds onto her thighs and drinks and licks and strokes messily but makes sure his teeth don’t sink in, and just as she’s about to moan his name, everything turns into smoke and the morning sun burns into her eyelids and she wakes up.

Jessica sits up with a groan.

Her room is the same as always. The Girl Scout badges are in perfect order. Her red stress ball is exactly where she left it.

She pulls off the covers quickly.

The bandages are still on her knees.

But when she slowly peels them off, the skin underneath is …perfect. Unbroken and uninjured.

She touches the flesh with trembling fingers.

Jessica laughs quietly. Oh. It must have healed overnight.

That must be it.

She almost jumps out of her skin when her mother calls her down for breakfast.

“You’ve been quiet all day,” Angela remarks as they sit together in Biology. “You okay?”

Jessica watches the back of Edward’s polished head. He always works alone. The teacher doesn’t seem to mind he never has a partner. No one ever seems to bother with him. Why is that, huh?

“I just…didn’t sleep very well,” she mumbles, because it’s kind of true. “Hang on, I’m gonna grab us some more slides.”

Before Angela can protest, she’s on her feet, walking towards Edward. The supply closet is close to his table. It’s as good an excuse as any.

“Morning, Cullen,” she says as she walks past, trying to sound confident.

“Jessica,” he greets with a small nod and she notices how his eyes immediately trail down to her bare legs. She wore a skirt today. On purpose.

“Yeah, my knees are all better,” she says airily, jutting one leg out, hand on her hip. “Funny how the body heals itself, right?”

“Yes. Funny,” he agrees, lips twitching.

“I think so too,” she says. “Listen, sorry about the other day. I think I was, like, hormonal or something. I mean, obviously, you _weren’t_ there at practice. I realize that now, and I’m sorry for threatening you. I guess I needed someone to dump on. But no harm done, since I won the game anyway.”

_I won the game anyway._

Edward regards her with that shifting focus again, hunters sizing each other up. It’s a little intoxicating how riveted he seems to be by her every movement.

“No harm done,” he agrees with a clipped smile.

“I knew you’d understand,” she says in that really sweet, passive aggressive way she has perfected after spending so much time with Lauren. And she gets close to him, reaches out with her hand and grabs the slide from the microscope of his nonexistent partner. Edward’s nostrils flare a little.

“You’re not using this, are you?”

He shakes his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Thank you, Edward.” And she makes sure to enunciate very clearly because all the motivational books she’s read tell you that _every_ single word counts.

She can feel his eyes on her as she walks back to her table. She forces herself not to flinch, not to give anything away. This has to be her victory.

She sits down. Angela’s whispering feverishly in her ear, but she can’t hear her.

Yeah, she’s kind of terrified. She doesn’t know what happened last night. She doesn’t know what will happen today. But Jessica Stanley makes up for her diminutiveness with an impressive amount of energy.

No matter the game, she’s going to win it.

* * *

_go to see her when the sun goes down_   
_ain't no finer girl in town_   
_you're my girl, what the doctor ordered_   
_so sweet, you make my mouth water_

_(...)_

_some day soon I'll make you mine  
then I'll have candy all the time._


End file.
